


I Will Never Fall (As Long As You're Beside Me)

by eveningsky (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Flowers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:44:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/eveningsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Paint-splattered carnations, overgrown jasmine, dew covered azalea, wailing sweet pea, drooping bluebell and a single, lone, forget-me-not in a sea of red roses.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Never Fall (As Long As You're Beside Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Look I just needed something to help me get over episode 9. (I am not OK)  
> I don't even knOW what universe this is some weird AU-canon hybrid I-  
> (Sorry that this is really dumb and really ooc.)  
> I also use a lot of [Hanakotoba](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanakotoba) if you want to look into my flower choices.  
> Inspired heavily by both [this](http://karasuno-kid.tumblr.com/post/87046869728/partly-inspired-by-this-super-cute-post%20) but also [this](http://imaginethehaikyuukids.tumblr.com/post/86826915789/imagine-asahi-having-a-whole-windowsill-full-of%20)  
> Look out for those canon parallels!  
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

Flowers are like people, in a way.

 They can bloom and flourish, or they can wither in wilt. They grow towards the sun and radiate their brilliance, or they fall towards the ground and rot. They require a certain amount of care, of nurture –too much will lead to their downfall, and too little will cause their starvation.

 No two stems are ever the same length, no petals the same colour. Flowers are just as diverse as humans are, with their own aura, their own charisma.

 (But people are loud, and talkative, they say words when there is no need for them to be said, they fight each other instead of fighting the weeds, and sometimes, they seem to forget how to look towards the sun.)

Every bud starts off as a seed, and every seed digs its roots into the earth and absorbs nutrients from the atmosphere around it. Some roots intertwine and grow together, while others stand alone and reach towards the sky.

(But flowers are quiet, observant, only watching from afar, swayed by an invisible breeze.)

(But then again, so is _he_.)

 

\---

 

Asahi is filled with a gentleness that berates his stature, as if he is a sword made of cherry blossoms, oscillated by a gust that threatens to topple him -but never truly faltering.

“You have more flowers than you have friends.” Noya comments dryly, stretches out backwards and yawns, flopping the text book over his face to blot out the warm, yellow light that emanates from the ceiling. He’s been studying for so long that he can barely tell the difference between _x_ and _y,_ and he can feel himself growing more restless the longer the night goes on.

 Asahi only gives a thoughtful hum, taking a generous amount of consideration and carefulness as he tilts the watering can, letting drops of rainwater sprinkle across the plants that flood the windowsill.

 “The flowers _are_ my friends.” He retorts lamely, and Yuu is so tired he can only manage a soft snort.

 (But Asahi’s voice is as silky as a rose’s petals, is so gentle and subdued that it is like a soft breeze, one which flows through Yuu’s veins and through his heart.)

 

\---

 

The pressure gets to him, sometimes.

 (He’s not really sure why he cares so much, it’s not like he did in high school)

 (Then again, leaving college is, admittedly, leaving Asahi.)

 And he really just _doesn’t_ want to fail.

 (He wants to reach towards the sun.)

 Asahi knows this, of course, and his brow will furrow together like crinkled paper and his mouth will become a frown so deep-set that Noya wants to reach it out and brush his thumb along it until it’s smoothed back into his smile. (Which glows like the very sun he tries so hard to reach for.)

 So he’ll invite Yuu over, purely because there is something calming and tranquil about the tedious task of studying when surrounded by an apartment jungle, and he’ll give sweet words of encouragement until Nishinoya starts chewing on his pencil so hard it breaks in half and his fingers itch to do something else.

 Asahi will then rip the textbook out of Yuu’s hands –albeit with a reluctant whine from the shorter boy- and he’ll roll his eyes and set it on the dining room table with a quiet ‘come on’ until he’s dragging Noya by the sleeve and practically carrying him down the stairs.

 And he’ll take Yuu down to the nursery on the corner of the street, where he’ll hang out with potted agave and tiny trimmed bonsais, torn between whether to plant more gardenia or erica, and Nishinoya will ask what the difference is and Asahi will launch into some long discussion at how Erica is a plant that stands alone and grows only in acidic soil, an evergreen, left to bloom in winter when everything else has shed its skin, its leaves, ready to start anew, a true shrub of solitude, while gardenia blooms in clusters during the warm seasons-

 (But Yuu doesn’t listen to the words as much as he does Azumane’s voice.)

 

\---

 

“What are we?” Noya asks, splays his hand out against the blue sky in stark contrast, watching how the clouds look like they’re slipping through his fingertips, his other hand plucking at the grass around his thighs.  

 “We?” Azumane parrots, licking the edge of his finger as he turns the page of his book.

 “ _Us.”_ Nishinoya corrects himself, mumbling incoherently as he continues tearing at the grass.

(He hates not knowing, not understanding. The unknown fears him and excites him in ways he can't begin to explain, which only makes everything that much more frustrating.)

 “I don’t know.” Asahi mutters, closes his book gently and looks down at Yuu –whose head rests in his lap. “Does that bother you?”

 “Why would it?” Noya scoffs -denies- puts his hand down and stares straight at the little smirk that’s tugging across Azumane’s face, finding a daisy and twiddling it between his fingers, tempted to pluck at each white petal until the thing left behind is as naked and broken as humans are.

 “Curiosity killed the cat.” Asahi laughs lightly, flicks the stray streaks of blonde hair out of Yuu’s face and runs his fingers through the rest. “Why don’t you tell me?”

 “We’re-“ Noya looks up, and he wants to say clouds, for they drift on an unseen wind, flowing through the current of both time and fate. But he slips his hand through the Asahi’s, observes the way they slot together, like two halves of the same whole, and he bites back the thought.

 (For they are still rooted to the earth, to each other, stems and vines intertwined; and although the wind may try to rip them from their foundations, they will never fall.)

 (He leans up and tucks the daisy into Asahi’s bun, kisses him chaste on the edge of his mouth, lingering when he pulls away, if only for a moment.)

 “-Flowers.”

 

\---

 

“I’m-“ Noya starts, cut off mid-sentence by a huge yawn that seems to sprout from his core, his mind a mess of formulae and flowers as he flops onto the bed beside Azumane.

 “Tired?” Asahi suggests amusedly, nose still dug in a book that’s thick and heavy, with pages of parchment and a red spine laced with gold letters.  Must be nice, to be an art student, Yuu thinks in half-bitterness, teeth grinding together as his vision blurs and all he sees are coefficients and camellias.

 “Read to me…” Noya exhales, snuggling further into the blanket and rests his head on Asahi’s torso, feels each word as a vibration through his chest, like a series of small tremors that quiver through his own spine. Asahi begins to read aloud –voice a low drone- until Yuu’s eyelids begin to droop, and the last thing he feels before he drifts off is the presence of something warm and damp against his forehead, and the fleeting image of a hibiscus, tucked into long, brown locks .

 

\---

 

Flowers are silent beings who speak in tongues of dances and falling petals, stirred by storms and sleeping breath, who are quiet, voiceless.

 (Asahi is neither a flower nor silent.)

 Nishinoya runs his mouth down the other’s jaw, his neck, bits of stubble tickling his own cheek, legs straddling his waist. When he bites down Asahi moans, and he doesn’t have enough self-control to stop the grin from sliding across his face. 

 (Asahi is not a flower but is a mountain, a pillar of strength and solidity that reaches towards the sun, that scrapes its claw through the clouds and tears at the fabric of the sky. A mountain which can be covered with ice or snow or storm, with sun or rain, speckled with flowers in the spring, a mountain which remains the same mound of rock underneath no matter what dares to try to weather it away.)

  Asahi cups Nishinoya’s jaw, repositioning him so that their lips can meet, so that Yuu can taste the other -Azumane tastes like spring and the paint-splattered carnations he keeps by the window, smells like the sweet ambrosia-like scent of honeysuckle, his skin coarse and leathery like a zinnia’s leaf.

 (Sometimes Asahi says that Yuu reminds him of sunflower, all warmth and light and brightness that rivals that only of the sun itself, who is quiet but is also so very loud, calling out to every bee and butterfly in silent screams of colour.)

 “Nishi…noya…” Asahi sighs into the other’s mouth, a smile twitching at the edge of his lips, eliciting a breathy moan once Yuu experimentally rolls his hips, clothes suddenly feeling far too hot and far too tight.

 (But Yuu is not a sunflower for flowers are delicate and weak, and he is the very earth which the mountain lies upon, the veins of the rock so far beneath the surface that they are virtually one and the same.)

 Nishinoya drags his teeth along Asahi’s bottom lip while his fingers work on the buttons down his shirt, pulling his own over his head and pushing their chests together, their hips, pushing earth against stone.

 (Flowers may be soundless, but they are most definitely not.)

 

\---

 

When he wakes up in the morning - pulling on a white t-shirt and realizing it’s way too large to be his and also realizing he’s way too tired to care- he wakes up alone, save for a note on the pillow explaining the absence and a single, blue, forget-me-not.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> (This may have been written with Erica in mind because that girl deserves all the asanoya the world has to offer tbh.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
